


A Foolish Arrangement

by voodoo_smile



Category: Indie Music RPF, Music RPF, Pop Music RPF, Real Person Fiction, Rock Music RPF, The Cure (Band), music and bands
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Cruelty, Dark, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fanfiction, Gay Sex, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Male Slash, Oral Sex, Rating: M, Rating: NC17, Slash, Smut, The Cure, Violence, Work In Progress, robin gallith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 11:19:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22849294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voodoo_smile/pseuds/voodoo_smile
Summary: Setting: Robert/Simon, 1991-92 (Robert's POV).Disclaimer: I do not own The Cure. Everything described in this story is fictional.*Not sure who the real bastard is in this one. Hmm... *
Relationships: Simon Gallup/Robert Smith
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	A Foolish Arrangement

I knock on your hotel room door, but there’s no answer.

“Open up.” I stand there for a long moment and put my ear to the door, but there’s nothing.

Not a sound.

“Please,” I knock again louder and by this time my pleading seems useless, but I persist, “Don’t be like this. Just…open up."

Finally, there’s a rustling from within the room, a crash and then a few expletives follow. I breathe a sigh of relief as the door swings open and you’re standing there fully clothed in your baggy tank top and leggings.

You look down at the floor.

“What?” You ask, your voice low and flat…and so very worn out.

I find myself just staring at you as we both stand before each other in silence and, of course, your gaze still doesn’t meet mine—it never does anymore.

My eyes search for your face through your thick, wavy hair that covers it and I notice how much longer it’s gotten and how soft it looks. It takes all of my strength not to brush it away so I can see your eyes, but I don’t touch you—I know better these days, and instead, I end up murmuring your name.

“Simon…”

You jump at that sound and your hand curls around the edge of the door. I’ve startled you out of your trance, and after another long, quiet moment you take a deep breath and finally step aside to let me in.

I enter the room and it looks worse than what I expected. It’s as if a storm swept through; bottles of liquor, cigarettes, and rubbish litter the floor and every other surface. Even the bed isn’t immune to your path of self-destruction. Neither of us sits on it, and I can’t help but think of how many times we’d done that as friends and later doing significantly more than simply sitting on any bed, as lovers… But sadly, you put a stop to all of that just after I found out about your pending divorce. You never even confided in me about it. I eventually heard it from one of the crew which was a disappointing shock. I always thought you told me everything, but sorely discovered that this simply wasn’t the case. I still wonder just how many secrets you’ve kept hidden from me all these years.

I shake my souring thoughts, scan the room and approach a flimsy chair, tipping it to slide the clothes and empty beer cans off, and I sit.

“Simon, why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” Your simple question is barely audible, your voice is scratchy and weak, yet it’s the most I’ve heard come out of your mouth for days, and I sincerely wonder if you've got the strength to speak at all anymore.

“ _Seriously?_ ” I ask, utterly amazed.

I can’t believe you don’t even see what you’re doing to yourself. What you’ve become. I so desperately wish I could grab you and shake you…scream at you so you’d come to your senses. But as I glance around at the mess and your emaciated form as you sit amongst the chaos oblivious to it all, delicately curling your legs up into your chest, I know it would be a futile battle.

You shrug and let out a long, defeated sigh.

“He’ll be alright.” You conclude quietly, and my eyes widen in disbelief.

My question has nothing to do with what happened earlier when you cornered Boris, spat at him and nearly punched him in the face for suggesting we try something different during sound check. His comment wasn’t particularly meant to lessen your contribution as you so wrongly assumed. It now seems as if your defensiveness has reached its peak.

That’s not even the real problem here…

“Fuck,” I say in frustration and shake my head, “It’s not that…it’s…”

I straighten up, shift uncomfortably in the chair and cross my arms, my glower travelling to the far corner of the room. I’m struggling to remain composed, struggling for the right words, and when they finally do emerge they’re a million miles away from what I intended to say. 

“Do you really think it’s wise for you to continue this tour?”

_I meant to say I love you…_

Your head snaps up and your eyes are wide as they stare at me in utter mortification and your mouth drops open.

“What?” Your question is a mere creak in your throat.

“You-” My chest is now aching and I slouch down further in the chair. My body feels drained and limp, but I just can’t stop myself, “I think that maybe you shouldn’t-”

“Shouldn’t _what_?” You snap quietly, not letting me finish.

When I finally gather up the courage to look at you, your hair falls in front of your face again as you stare down at the carpet. You sniff and your hand comes up and disappears underneath to wipe away what I can only imagine are tears, and although seeing you this way crushes my heart, you still look as beautiful as ever which makes this all even worse. I miss you so very much. I miss the person I thought I used to know and, worst of all, I still want you…and hate the fact that I can’t have you.

I sigh hopelessly and rise from the chair. Nothing I say will ever change what’s happened to us…or to you. I’ve tried to give you space so you can sort everything out, but now it’s become impossible to silently witness your steady downward spiral. And at the same time, I want you so badly I can’t think straight.

“Goodb-,” I simply cannot bring myself to say that final word to you. It would mean I’d never see you again, and at this point I’m not certain just whom that would damage more greatly, “Goodnight, Simon.” My voice cracks and I sigh wearily and walk as if in a daze to the door until I feel something touch my shin. You’ve reached out to stop me and I immediately come to a halt. 

“Robert, please…” Your voice trembles, “Don’t go… Please…”

You’re crying now and you repeat those same words over and over, begging me so desperately between quiet sobs and you grip my leg harder, burying your face in the back of my knee as I stand there helpless, feeling the warmth of your breath and the wetness of your tears dampen my jeans.

I try to pull away and sigh in frustration at myself for not having the strength to kick you off, to walk out and leave you to your misery, but it’s too late now—you’ve cracked the seal of my resolve; it’s the first time I’ve felt your touch in months…

You’ve released my leg and when your face tilts up and meets mine I’m instantly taken aback at the sight of you; your eyes…silently pleading and so hauntingly beautiful, captivate me, and for a moment I’m speechless. All I can do is drop to my knees and face you. 

“ _Stop_ …” I say. Now it’s my turn to plead because you must know what you do to me. I’m certain you always have. 

Your hands land on my shoulders and slowly wrap around me loosely, but you don’t pull me in. It’s as if you even lack the strength to do that, yet you inch closer, your face nuzzling my neck. 

“Robert…” Those soft lips brush my skin just under my jaw, “I-please…”

I’m fighting to do the right thing and as I stop and try to think about just what that should be, I close my eyes and those thoughts are carelessly pushed aside as I revel in your touch and the feeling of your mouth on my skin. I breathe in your unmistakable scent and stroke your hair at last, cautiously. It’s so enticing and just as soft as I imagined it would be after all this time that it causes the last bit of lucidity to leave my mind, and I dip my head so very slowly until my mouth meets yours in a gentle kiss.

I feel dizzy…so dizzy as your lips tremble against mine and when I hear a tiny sound emerge from deep within your throat I regretfully pull away. I’m not sure if that wounded sound was one of pain or something else…and I’m not so sure you intended for me to hear it at all. I pull back so I can look at you, to brush the hair out of your eyes that are red from crying but still so familiar; the warmth still there, yet they look so very lost.

“Simon…” I whisper and kiss you again. Your lips part for me almost instantly and then out of instinct and sheer desire, my tongue slides inside your mouth and you moan. At that very moment, a rush of want and greed push me further and when my hands travel down your warm body I’m caught off-guard, astonished at just how thin you’ve become; your ribcage and hipbones protrude from your slight frame under my fingers. It’s a reminder of what you’ve done to yourself…a reminder of how everything is just so different anymore…

And at that thought I try pushing myself back, but you hold on to me, gripping my shirt and you bury your face into my chest, pushing me backward until I’m slumped down on the floor against the side of the bed. 

“Robert, please… Please stay with me…” And just the way you utter those words through your quiet sobs into my shirt…just the way you plead with me; I’m powerless against it.

Much to my disappointment, you insist on keeping your beautiful face hidden from me; I still can’t see it as you look down. My hands reach for your hair to push it out of the way again so I can look at you, but your shoulders stiffen, and I suddenly feel your hand on the button of my jeans.

“Simon, no…” I grasp your wrist attempting to push it away...attempting to assert my protest, but my weakness is immediately exposed as you force your hand down and touch my groin.

For a moment it seems apparent your strength has surged, and before I can comprehend any of this you’ve undone my jeans and you quickly drift downward, that gorgeous head of hair moving straight to my lap.

I let out a gasp despite myself as your mouth surrounds me and my head falls back against the bed. I haven’t felt you go down on me for so long I can barely breathe and at this very moment selfishness has taken over; I’m not sorry this is happening at all. I simply can’t think of anything else as you move on my cock so skillfully, only stopping for a short moment to catch your breath, and then I seize the opportunity, reaching down to turn your face up to me. I have to look at you, but you turn away and move back down, your tongue licking the length of my erection before taking me in again and I moan loudly.

My hands find your head and they twist into that warm softness as you continue to suck faster, that heavenly feeling making my head spin. I’m breathing hard now—nearly panting, and my heart beats loudly in my ears as my pending orgasm threatens…and when I hear your soft, muffled groan and feel your hand touch the base of my cock and stroke in counter-rhythm of your mouth I have no choice but to give in, and I suddenly explode.

*** *** ***

I no longer feel the warmth of your body near mine as my breathing calms, and when I finally open my eyes, I’m disappointed to see that you’ve immediately moved away. You’re curled up in a ball on your side facing away from me with each vertebrae of your backbone so clearly defined from your excessive scrawniness as you breathe in and out, your quiet, muffled sobs beginning to emerge…

I look down at my lap and zip up my jeans as my head slowly begins to clear.

“Simon, I love you.” I say at last. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made that confession aloud. And I move closer to you in the hope that you’ll reciprocate, my hand stretching out to caress your hair once again, but you jerk away from my touch.

Sadly, that’s answer enough…

You whimper and your body begins to tremble as sobs turn into gasps, your breathing more strained as you fight to keep your crying at bay.

I reach out to touch you again, but then pull back, hastily reconsidering as you raise yourself up from the floor with your back to me. You don't even have the decency to face me.

It's as if you’re ashamed.

“I-can’t…don’t-” Your voice is soft and hoarse and you let out another sob, “I…fuck…”

My mind begins to piece together just what’s happening and I feel a twinge of resentment growing at your cold and obvious dismissal of me. As you stand unsteadily, catch your breath and tearfully rummage through your bag for your poison and needle, I finally conclude that what I thought was a glorious and blissful moment...one of hope, tenderness and sweet desperation, was now deliberately reckless, hollow and vulgar…and _all your fault._

I stand and pull myself together, hardening my heart one final time and a streak of cruelness bubbles over.

"Don't bother turning up tomorrow." My voice shakes and my throat tightens, "Go get your passport." I order, and my head throbs with a dull ache as the one word I thought I'd never utter now slips out with ease, "Goodbye."

You don't say a word, only a sharp intake of breath, but it's just as well—that's just what I expected.

I can no longer look at you...and as I walk past I suddenly shove you forward into the bedside table, hearing you topple into it, hitting the wall with a thud as I leave. _  
_

_*THE END*_


End file.
